


Seven Simple Words

by jacaranda_bloom



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arrogant Son Of A Bitch, Australia, Bottom Louis, Coworkers - Freeform, Exes to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Past friends with benefits, Pining, Sydney - Freeform, Sydney Harbour, To Be So Lonely, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:15:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26421733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacaranda_bloom/pseuds/jacaranda_bloom
Summary: It’s not like he and Louis were a couple. No, they might have been a lot of things—best mates and colleagues with a seemingly convenient friends-with-benefits arrangement—but never a couple. It wasn’t Louis’ fault he didn’t feel the same way and couldn’t reciprocate Harry’s feelings in the way he’d wanted, the way he’d needed. Harry had allowed himself to get in too deep, his entire being aching to be loved back by the object of his affections. But in love, as in life, you don’t always get what you want.OR the one where you don’t always get what you want the first time around, but sometimes the universe decides to give you a second chance at getting it right.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 102
Kudos: 541
Collections: Fine Line Fic Fest





	Seven Simple Words

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the [Fine Line Fic Fest](https://finelineficfest.tumblr.com//). Make sure you check out all the other great fics in the collection which can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FineLineFicFest//)!
> 
> Hi and thanks for dropping by to check out my little story, I hope you like it. This is based on the song To Be So Lonely.
> 
> The commissioned cover artwork for this fic was created by the immensely talented Tanya (aka wilywolf). Please go and show them some love on [ Tumblr ](https://wilywolf.tumblr.com/) and [ Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/wilywolf92/).
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcome - they make me so happy and I appreciate them greatly. xx

“Who’s up for a game then?” Harry hears Louis ask. He glances up to find Louis with his eyebrows raised in challenge as he scopes out their group of work colleagues, pool cue in hand. Harry knows what’s coming next. They've always made a great team—the Dream Team—so when Louis doesn’t get any takers his gaze lands on Harry. “Haz? Come on, baby, you know you want to,” Louis sing-songs with a waggle of his eyebrows and Harry nods helplessly as his world spins out of control.

 _Baby._ The word hangs in the air, suspended like a lightning bolt about to strike his heart. Even five years on, it’s said with such familiarity and fondness that he’s instantly transported back to a time when that word represented so much to him; safety, reassurance, and everything that was his universe. Louis.

But now that world is just a memory, after all, it’s a bit hard to maintain a fantasy when the one you love—unrequited, as it may be—goes and gets himself a goddamn boyfriend.

Under normal circumstances, Harry would’ve been able to nurse his crushed heart, wallow in a self-indulgent pit of despair for an appropriately painful period of time, and then harden the fuck up and move on. Of course, back then they weren’t even in the ballpark of normal circumstances, so that path wasn’t available to Harry. Instead, he was faced with an excruciatingly drawn-out process where he had to spend every day working in close quarters with Louis. Days on set, side by side, and nights holed up sharing dingy motel rooms or worse, quaint little romantic B&B’s in the English countryside. The whole situation just made it impossible to get the distance he needed. 

It’s not like he and Louis were a couple. No, they might have been a lot of things—best mates and colleagues with a seemingly convenient friends-with-benefits arrangement—but never a couple. It wasn’t Louis’ fault he didn’t feel the same way and couldn’t reciprocate Harry’s feelings the way he’d wanted, the way he’d needed. And it’s not as if Harry had ever been brave enough to lay it all out and tell Louis how he felt; too afraid of upsetting their happy little arrangement. Louis had asked him numerous times whether he was okay with it all and Harry had simply reassured him that it was great, stupendous even, because the thought of not being with Louis, even as pathetic and unfulfilling as it was, was better than nothing at all.

But Harry had allowed himself to get in too deep, his entire being aching to be loved back by the object of his affections. But in love, as in life, you don’t always get what you want.

As much as it ripped at his very core, his role as a best mate was to support Louis in his fledgling relationship with his new _boyfriend_. He was supposed to listen to him wax poetic about Alex, about how smart he was, how funny, how gorgeous, how talented. All the while Harry had to hide how he really felt, shove it into the farthest corners of his heart and just hope it didn’t break him. But really, there’s only so much a man can take.

When the transfer opportunity came up to move to FilmPost’s Australian production office, Harry hadn’t hesitated for even a single second. It was like manna from heaven, a sign, his way out of the mess he’d created for himself. He’d grabbed onto it with both hands and run away, so far away, fleeing to the other side of the globe, and that was that.

Over the last five years, he’s built a life for himself and progressed his career, now operating as Show Runner for the successful The Great Aussie Cook Off reality program filmed at the contestants' homes and the company’s lot in Rozelle, a harbourside suburb in Sydney’s Inner West. He’s proud of himself. It had taken a lot to get his footing in a new country with no friends or family to fall back on, but he’d done it, and he was thriving.

He’d been sitting in his office on the lot reshuffling an entire day's shoot after the weather had ruined an outdoor challenge when his phone pinged with an alert from LinkedIn. He’s always hated the stupid site but has to maintain his profile for professional purposes. He’d picked up his phone and then dropped it like it was on fire, pushing off the edge of the desk and rolling his chair back into the wall with a thud. He’d stayed there for an inordinate amount of time, heart attempting to beat out of his chest, staring at his phone from across the room until the screen went back to black.

When his breathing had returned to something resembling normal he’d slowly rolled his chair back over with his feet and tapped the screen on his phone, and yeah, the notification was still there. _Louis Tomlinson sent you a new message._ Seven simple words that in no way captured the monumental level of chaos that was about to rain down on his life.

Louis had taken a new job outside of the company a year after Harry had relocated to Australia. He’d seen the farewell and thank you emails mentioning that he was following Alex to Ireland after he’d gotten some amazing opportunity because of course, he had, but Harry had never known what to say so he’d let the event pass without acknowledgement. It was a bit of a chicken-shit move, but then they hadn’t exactly stayed in touch. Louis had tried, for a while, but Harry had blown him off and eventually just left Louis’ messages unread so he’d stopped sending them.

Harry had opened the LinkedIn message, curiosity getting the better of him, and tried in vain to dislodge the lump from his throat.

_Hi Harry,_

_Just thought I’d touch base and let you know that I’ve interviewed for a job with FilmPost in Sydney. It’s a great opportunity and it feels like a good time for a change of scenery. Anyway. Just wanted to reach out and give you the heads-up in case it works out. Hope you’re doing well._

_Louis_

It was short, and simple, with no familiarity underlying the tone. After his initial shock, Harry had been grateful that Louis had thought to message and warn him and even though he’d thought of little else for the rest of the day and night, he’d waited until the following morning to reply.

_Hi Louis,_

_Thanks for your message. Things are good and that’s great news. I wish you all the best of luck. Hope things are well with you too._

_Harry_

He’d agonized over the wording for a ridiculously long time, the _great news_ bit in particular, but in the end, he’d decided to include it. He could be a grown-up. The formal notification had come from HR a couple of weeks later via a stock-standard email blast. Louis was his new Vision Mixer for the show. It was just a simple, bland email that dropped into his inbox like it was no big deal, as if the news wasn’t about to turn his life upside down. 

Having Louis back in his life was something he’d never even considered and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it or what the ramifications would be. It had taken such a long time to put it behind him, to heal, to forget; not that he ever really succeeded.

Dating had been difficult. At first, really fucking difficult. He’d tried to find people who were the exact opposite of Louis which hadn't worked out so well. Then he’d just let himself go with the flow and ended up with Tim. He was small and curvy, with blue eyes and caramel hair, and Harry knew very well what he was doing, but he went with it anyway. Maybe he just had a physical type, he’d reasoned with himself. But deep down he’d known it was more than that and he was just setting himself up for disappointment; he’d let it happen anyway. They’d lasted almost a year before Harry had ended it. Tim was devastated and Harry hadn’t been brave enough to give him the truthful explanation; that he was only ever going to be a fill-in for the man who had stolen his heart and never given it back. 

That was a year ago and, aside from a few hook-ups, he’s pretty much sworn off men altogether, and as he’s never been keen on women, that left him with his right hand, which is totally fine. Or at least it was until the man he loved—loves?—turned up uninvited and crashed back into his life and who is currently standing within arm’s length, but completely out of reach, staring at him expectantly.

“Haz. Haz, we’re up,” Louis says, his voice pulling Harry back to the present. Harry slams back into his body, breath punched out of him as though he’s been hit with the full force of a freight train. The pub comes back into focus around him as his brain fog dissipates and everything looks the same, but it shouldn’t. He feels like the world should be different, like the utterance of that single word— _Baby_ —should have caused a seismic shift in the tectonic plates and plunged him and the rest of Earth’s inhabitants into the molten core of volcanic gases and lava. And yet everything is as it was.

“Right. Sorry,” Harry says and takes the offered pool cue from Louis’ outstretched hand. “You want me to break?”

“No. I want you to bake a cake,” Louis rhymes back at him, a hint of mischief in his voice and his trademark crinkly-eyed smile in full bloom. He’s had a few beers already, making the smiles and pet names, and that special brand of Louis Tomlinson humour well and truly shine through. The _Baby_ reference had been said in jest, of course, just like it always was, but it doesn’t hurt any less. He can’t even count the nights he’d lain awake in Louis’ bed hoping that this was it, that this time would be the one when Louis would finally realise what they had was more than just friends fucking for the sake of convenience, only to have his hopes dashed the next morning when nothing had changed.

Harry rolls his eyes and walks to the head of the table, setting his beer down on the edge and positioning the white ball on the line, just off-centre. “You know,” he says as he plants his hand on the table, resting the cue between his thumb and forefinger, drawing it back and looking up, meeting Louis’ gaze with a smirk. “I used to be a baker.”

He punches the cue forward and smashes the white ball into the racked set, sending the coloured balls flying and rebounding off the cushions, eyes never leaving Louis’. He straightens up and takes a swig of his beer as two of the balls drop into the holes; one solid, one stripe.

“You were _not_ a baker. You _worked_ in a bakery at the weekends on the till, serving little old ladies their Devonshire Teas,” Louis says smugly, earning a chorus of chuckles from their group of onlookers. And yes, of course, he’d say that, because he knows Harry’s entire fucking life history.

“Whatever,” Harry says dismissively. He’s not going to let Louis get a rise out of him. “You want solids or stripes?” He gestures toward the table with his beer and Louis eyes the layup.

“Solids,” Louis says with a curt nod. “Clean it up, Haz.”

Harry groans internally. He really wishes Louis would stop with the nickname thing. It’s too much. He’s trying to be friendly, Harry gets that, and he appreciates he’s not doing himself any favours with the little jokes and smirks he can’t seem to stop throwing at Louis, but for fuck’s sake. This isn’t five years ago, things are different now and he needs to keep his distance for his own well-being, even if that distance can no longer be a physical one.

Harry rounds the table and sets his bottle down again, bending over and lining up his next shot. He sinks it with an ease that is almost unsettling. Actually, the whole goddamn scene is unsettling, like it’s been ripped from the pages of their history; a snapshot of how it used to be when Friday night drinks were a regular occurrence back in the UK.

Since Louis arrived four weeks ago a lot of memories have been making an unwelcome reappearance. He looks much the same, perhaps with the addition of a few extra laugh lines around the edges of his smiles and some dignified grey hairs at his temples. Trust Louis to age well, the bastard.

After the initial message bombshell, they hadn’t spoken again until Louis’ first day. Aside from not really knowing what to say, Harry had wanted to wait until Louis was there, in person, so he could get a read on the situation and how Louis was going to behave. He’d shown up all smiles and happiness and his usual bantery self and immediately won over the entire cast and crew. He does his job well, turns up on time and is the life of the party whenever the team goes out to socialize. It’s just that Harry can’t stop being an arrogant son of a bitch to him. It’s a reflex really. A self-protection mechanism. He can’t relax when he’s around, always trying to keep himself in check and not fall back into Louis’ orbit. Harry snaps at him and barks orders like he doesn’t do with the rest of the team. He calls out his mistakes, even though they’re few and far between, and corrects him in front of the crew. He sees Louis’ face fall each and every time he does it but Louis always just straightens his shoulders and apologizes and assures Harry he'll fix whatever the minuscule problem is. Harry absolutely hates himself for it, but he can’t seem to reign it in. 

Harry sinks the next three balls without issue, missing his fourth shot, but managing to snooker the other team and setting Louis up for his turn.

He grabs his beer and walks over to where Louis is holding court with a few of their work colleagues, halfway through telling them some hilarious anecdote about his and Harry’s escapades from years gone by. He catches the gist of it as he reaches the huddle. It’s the one where they were on the production crew for that asshole American TV chef and two of the contestants had gone off for a quickie behind the tent with their mic packs still on and transmitting for all to hear in the production truck.

It’d been a shit job that had dragged on for months while the prick was filming a reality series for a US cable channel. At the time the guy was a big deal back in the States and was able to pitch this ridiculous premise about an American Chef coming to the UK and showing the British a thing or two about cooking. The truth was that he just wanted an all-expenses-paid six-month-long vacation with his girlfriend, far, _far_ away from his wife. To add insult to injury he was as untalented in the kitchen as he was on screen and had about as much personality as the lumps of dough he used to knead in a way that he thought was seductive, but was really just downright creepy. Oh, and his girlfriend was a Class A bitch, strutting around like she owned the place and treating the crew as if they were her personal slaves. It was a nightmare and Harry was glad when it was over.

Harry hands the cue to Louis, who takes it without pausing for breath in his story, the crowd hanging off his every word. He’s in his element, all eyes on him waiting for the punchline as he gesticulates with his free hand. “And just as Philip was about to come, we cut the audio feed and Haz here wiped the tape, so we didn’t end up with a lawsuit on our hands,” Louis finishes and glances up at Harry with that big, beaming smile of his as the group erupts into gasps of shock and peels of laughter. Annoyingly, Harry can’t stop the grin from appearing on his face but he schools his expression quickly before Louis can take too much satisfaction in it.

“You two sound like you had the place wired,” Kelly offers, glancing between them. Harry doesn’t say anything, just gives a curt nod. But Louis turns and looks at Harry, so much hope in his eyes and Harry feels his resolve start to crumble.

“We were the Dream Team, weren’t we, Haz?”

Harry bristles at the familiar term, all eyes on him, waiting for his response. But they’re not the Dream Team anymore and Harry can’t help the need to clarify. “Yeah, we were. But that was another lifetime ago.” There’s a sadness in his tone which he didn’t consciously permit and he’d very much appreciate it if his heart would stop taking fucking liberties. 

Louis’ smile fades and he looks away, but not before Harry sees the hurt in his eyes. _Fuck_. He doesn’t want to be this guy. It isn’t Louis’ fault he didn’t love him back and punishing him for Harry’s own weakness isn’t fair. 

“You guys playing or what?” Harry hears one of their opponents ask.

Harry sucks in a deep breath. “Yeah, sorry guys. Louis, you’re up.” He holds out his fist like a metaphorical olive branch. “Dream Team, yeah?”

Louis hesitates, eyes darting down to Harry’s fist, as a bright smile creeps onto his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let's finish this,” he says and bumps Harry back.

It’s a small concession but an important one. He can’t go on like he has been or else it will burn him up inside and leave his heart as nothing but a pile of ash. He needs to man-up and find a way to work Louis back into his life. Now he just has to navigate the dangerous waters without drowning again. 

Louis clears the table with practised ease. It shouldn’t be as sexy as it is but Harry has always been a sucker for Louis bent over a hard surface. Their sex life had been mind-blowingly good, while it lasted. If only that passion could have translated into a proper relationship all of Harry’s dreams would have come true. They just fit together so well. Their bedroom antics were only a part of it, and not even the most important part as far as Harry was concerned. Their friendship had formed quickly when they started working together and went ahead in leaps and bounds, bouncing off each other with their quick wits and oddly similar senses of humour. Harry had been a goner for him almost from the start.

He used to sit in meetings and drift off, admiring Louis’ effortless way of wrapping everyone around his little finger. Harry’s ability to focus and not lose his train of thought had been an ongoing challenge and instead, he’d find himself gazing at his perfect pink lips, the wisps of hair across his forehead, his high cheekbones, his breathy laugh, the piercing blue eyes that dove into his soul, his dainty wrists when he gesticulated as he spoke, and his raspy voice floating on the air and lodging itself inside Harry’s heart. Yeah, he never stood a chance.

They manage to hold the table for two more games before a pair of locals wipes the floor with them, effectively ending their reign. Harry heads outside to join the rest of the group who have migrated into the beer garden to enjoy the summer evening, while Louis gets them more beers.

The pub is in a residential area, just behind the lot and surrounded by a mishmash of old workers cottages and renovated terraces. It’s quaint and Harry loves it. Rozelle, along with Balmain and Birchgrove, sits on a peninsula jutting out into Sydney Harbour, cut off from the rest of the Inner West by Victoria Road, one of the busiest thoroughfares in Sydney. The three suburbs were once working-class, housing the workforce for the docks and factories that lined the deep-water berths for the large ships that delivered the raw materials and took away the finished products. But that time has long since passed. Now, it’s filled with artsy types and professional couples, lured by its close proximity to the city and stunning harbourside locale; factories converted into upmarket apartments and shipyards reclaimed as open spaces.

Harry slips into the end of one of the long bench seats flanking the table where his colleagues are deep in conversation about next week's schedule. Kelly and Matt have waded into dangerous territory and are currently arguing over the merits of fostering discourse amongst the contestants for the benefit of good TV. Harry’s too tired and has too many beers in him to care, so he just lets them waffle on; he’s off the clock and they’re adults who can sort their own shit out anyway.

Louis sits down opposite and slides Harry’s beer over, quickly catching on to the argument underway. He nudges Harry’s shin under the table and rolls his eyes, nodding toward the ruckus and edging back to the end of the bench to distance himself. Harry does the same and Louis smiles. “Big plans for the weekend, Haz?”

Harry takes a sip of his beer and shakes his head. He really should switch to spirits soon, the beer is starting to make his stomach bloat and his tongue feel like cotton wool. “Nah. Not really. I wanna plant out a little patch in the garden with some herbs tomorrow, but that’s all. Probably go for a run on Sunday.”

“Oh nice,” Louis says and flicks his fringe out of his eye, smoothing it down with his fingers. Harry watches the painfully familiar movement and his tummy does a barrel roll. He scolds himself internally for allowing Louis’ mannerisms to still affect him so much. 

“How about you? Plans?” Harry ventures, having decided to at least try and match Louis’ efforts to be friendly. Louis looks genuinely shocked that Harry’s inquired about his weekend which, ouch.

“Uhm… yeah,” Louis starts and leans forward on his elbows. “Not much tomorrow. But then I’m gonna head down to Birchgrove Oval for a six-a-side kick around on Sunday arvo with some of the lads from the crew, then beers at the Bayview after.”

Harry’s eyes widen slightly at the idea of Louis having ingratiated himself so quickly into the team. It’s not like they’ve ever invited _him_ to play. Louis reads him like a fucking book as usual and quirks a brow but Harry doesn’t want to come off as a hanger-on or as if he’s fishing for an invite so he ploughs on.

“That sounds great, Lou,” the pet name slipping out before he can reel it in. Damn it. Maybe a switch to spirits isn’t such a good idea after all.

As if on cue, they’re interrupted by the bartender and owner setting a tray of shots down on the table between them, small amounts of liquid splashing over the rims. “Aye up lads,” Billy says, his Scottish lilt in full force.

“Billy. What on _earth_ are these?” Louis says eyeing the hideously bright blue concoctions before them.

“Trying something new. You lot are my crash-test dummies,” Billy says with a smirk.

“No, but seriously,” Harry says as the rest of the crew lean forward and around each other trying to get a look. “What the fuck are they?”

“I’m calling them Smurf’s,” Billy says, seeming awfully proud of himself. “What do you think?”

“I think it looks like toilet cleaner,” Kelly offers helpfully, scrunching her nose in disgust.

Harry looks up at Louis and he’s smiling like a mischievous child. “I’m in,” Louis says and grabs one of the shot glasses, raising his chin in challenge toward Harry. “Come on, Haz. You only live once.”

Harry rolls his eyes and picks up one of the glasses, sticky on the outside from where the alcohol has spilled over the edges. The smell of the spirit mixture is strong enough to make him gag and he shudders at the thought of it ending up mixing with all the beer in his stomach. This isn’t going to end well but he’s never backed down from a challenge when it came to Louis, and he’s not about to start now.

Harry holds up the shot glass and Louis mirrors his movement. “On three?”

Louis nods. “One,” they both say in unison. “Two, three!”

Harry throws the shot down and it burns like a son of a bitch, too sweet and too syrupy with a kick like all hell at the end. He slams his glass upside down on the tray at the same time as Louis and they both gasp for air, spluttering and laughing in equal measure. 

“Holy shit, Billy!” Louis shouts. “What the ever-loving fuck was that?”

“My secret recipe,” Billy replies, tapping the side of his nose like he hasn’t just made them drink poison.

The rest of the crew dive in and grab shots of their own, each one downing them and reacting just as Louis and Harry had. Surprisingly the aftertaste isn’t that bad and soon enough various team members have stumped up for trays of the dangerous mixes for the table.

By the time they’re four shots in, the sun has well and truly set, the pub is buzzing and the edges of Harry’s vision have started to blur. Louis is apparently not faring much better, his words slurred, voice louder and giggles and high-pitched laughter punctuating every other sentence. Harry’s finding it easier and easier to slip back into their friendly banter routine, finishing each other’s sentences and allowing the moments of reminiscing to overtake their conversations. Harry finds himself being drawn further into Louis’ orbit and no matter how hard he tries to keep his walls up to protect himself, Louis is breaking them down one brick at a time. Two more shots and three vodka soda chasers later, and the walls are completely obliterated. 

Harry comes back from the bathroom just after eleven-thirty to find that the last of the crew has finally abandoned them. Louis is sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone aimlessly, grinning to himself. 

“Home time, Lou?” Harry asks as he comes up alongside. Louis looks up at him, eyes glassy, an easy smile curling his lips.

“Mmmm… hungry. Wanna grab something to eat?”

Harry should say no, he really should, but he’s not ready for the night to be over just yet; his traitorous brain not currently firing on all cylinders and apparently deciding to let his heart take over the decision-making duties. The thought of going back to his little terrace, alone, while still drunk, isn’t all that appealing and at the suggestion of food, he’s suddenly starving.

“Yeah. Sounds good,” Harry says as he grabs his jacket off the bench seat.

Louis stands and sways a bit in place. “Woah. Drunker than I thought. Reckon I need to walk this off before I head home, anyways.”

“Come on,” Harry says and motions for Louis to go ahead of him. “There’s a great kebab shop not far from here that specializes in booze food.”

Louis chuckles and quirks a brow. “Booze food?”

Harry spins Louis around by his shoulders and guides him to the stairs that lead out onto the footpath. “Yup! Food that’s so-so when you’re sober but is like a dream when you’ve had a few too many.”

Louis giggles and nods, holding the railing as he cautiously negotiates the stairs, Harry close behind. The residential street is deserted and the noise from the pub fades into the background as they make their way to the main road.

“Those Smurfs were a killer,” Louis comments as he scuffs his foot on the pavement, slapping his hand against the wall of someone’s house to steady himself. “Oops.”

“Careful, Lou,” Harry warns. “Don’t trip and fall cos I don’t think I’d be able to pick you up.”

“Awwwww… you used to love carrying me around,” Louis teases as he walks on.

Harry blanches, feet coming to an abrupt halt as a fragment of a memory flashes behind his eyelids. Louis up against a hotel room wall, naked from the waist down, legs wrapped around Harry’s hips, arms around his neck and head thrown back, Harry’s jeans and pants around his ankles, panting breathlessly as he thrust up into Louis’ tight hole. He snaps himself out of it with a shake of his head, not responding to Louis’ comment and keeps moving. 

They slip into easy conversation about their evening as they negotiate the narrow footpaths along the main road up into Balmain; thoroughfares meant for horse and carriage traffic, not vehicles and pedestrians in mind. The headlights from oncoming cars and street lamps illuminate their journey and they reach the strip of shops, neon signs indicating those that are still open to take advantage of the nighttime trade.

Balmain has an upmarket village atmosphere; cafes and pubs and restaurants mixing with hairdressers, boutiques and homewares stores. They window shop as they go past, ambling along toward the kebabs that are now urgently calling Harry’s name, his stomach grumbling in protest at being filled with too much booze and no food. 

The flashing of the red, blue, and green coloured light bulbs affixed to the shop's awning draw them in like a beacon; the promise of pide, pizza, burgers, hot chips, and doner kebabs on offer which is a weird mix but one that presumably appeals to their target market of late-night inebriated patrons. The establishment is nothing much, and somewhat amiss in the sea of swanky shops and restaurants surrounding it, but at this time of night it manages to hold its own.

A few groups are hanging outside waiting for their food and another couple are inside at the counter making their orders. At the front of the shop is a display case of tired-looking pides and gozlemes and a few slices of baklava. Harry and Louis step up onto the linoleum floor and into the galley-like space, the servery on one side running the length of the store with fridges at the rear filled with all manner of drinks, their offensively bright labels swirling in Harry’s vision and blending into one. The techno music playing in the background drowning out the sounds of the deep fryers and sizzling hot plates.

Harry leans against the wall, hands splayed out behind him at his lower back as he looks up at the menu on the board above even though he already knows what he wants. He and Tim used to come here most Friday nights and grab something to eat before heading back to Harry’s little terrace just down the road near the Balmain East wharf at the end of the main street. It was a nice routine and one that Harry has kind of missed. It feels a little strange to be here with Louis instead. A little strange but oddly right at the same time.

Louis mirrors his position and leans into Harry’s side, breath fanning over his neck as he speaks. “What’s good?”

The proximity is unnerving and he tries to tamp down the butterflies in his stomach but his efforts are futile, they’ve taken flight and will calm down only when they’re good and ready. “The kebabs are excellent. Great falafel and tabbouleh. Chicken is good too.”

“Okay. You getting the falafel?”

“Mmmmmm, with cheese and hummus and hot chilli sauce.”

Louis groans. “Fuck, yeah. Didn’t realize how hungry I was. Get me whatever you’re having. You wanna drink?” Louis asks as he pushes off the wall and makes his way to the drinks fridge, slipping between Harry and the couple at the counter, his hand grazing Harry’s crotch on the way past. Louis snaps his head around and looks over his shoulder, a wince hiding his underlying smirk. “Sorry,” he says with a shrug and Harry rolls his eyes for what seems like the hundredth time that night, cheeks flushing at the arousal spiking in his bloodstream. 

The couple in front of them finishes ordering and Harry steps forward. “Hi, George. How are you?”

“Harry! Long time no see,” George greets him happily. And yeah, it’s been a while. George is a burly man in his mid-forties with a thick beard and dark brown eyes, chest hair peeking out above his red apron where his white polo shirt is open. He and his brother Joseph have owned this place for years having taken over the family business from their father when he’d retired. Not that they changed much, the addition of a card machine about the only discernible improvement. “What can I get for you tonight? The usual?”

Harry smiles. “Yeah. Make it two.”

“Extra hummus?”

Harry nods. “Yes, please. And uhm…” Harry looks to the side for Louis who is still standing at the open fridge, hand on his hip. “Lou! Drinks?”

“Huh?” Louis turns, a bottle of Appletiser in one hand. “Oh! Sorry. This good?”

Harry sucks in a sharp breath, his heart clenching at the sight. He remembered. Sparkling apple juice had always been one of Harry’s favourites and Louis always made certain to find some version of it whenever they went out to eat but he hasn’t had it in years. “Y-yeah. That’d be nice,” he stammers out.

Louis grins and grabs a bottle of Coke for himself, closing the fridge and joining Harry at the counter. He bumps their hips together and sets the drinks on top as George rings them up. Harry goes for his wallet but Louis bats his hand away. “My treat, love.”

George glances up and a small smile plays on his lips as he takes Louis’ offered card and runs it through. They head out to the footpath to wait for their food, music from a live band at the Unity Hall Hotel across the road spilling out into the quiet street. The peninsular isn’t short on pubs with around twenty at last count.

Harry cracks open his drink and takes a sip as a group of guys walks past, voices loud, teasing one of the blokes about a girl at their last stop knocking back his advances. He can tell they’re not from around here, their overpowering cologne and slicked back hair making them stand out in the more subdued environment. He’s still watching them as they cross over at the next street when a familiar voice startles him.

“Old habits die hard, I guess.” Harry turns to find Tim standing a few feet away, paused at the entrance to the shop. Fuck.

“Oh! Hey, Tim,” Harry says with a small wave, sweat prickling under his armpits. They hadn’t exactly ended on the best of terms and haven’t spoken since they’d returned the last of each other’s things from their respective homes. “H-how are you?”

Harry feels Louis shift closer to him obviously sensing Harry’s unease, not touching, just more in his personal space. The action is almost protective and Harry, for once, is glad for it. 

“Good. Yeah. Uhm, this is Adrian,” Tim says and Harry’s gaze travels to the man standing beside him who he hadn’t even noticed until his attention was drawn to him. He’s tall and broad with big features and a bright smile.

Adrian steps forward and extends his hand for Harry to shake which he does without even thinking. “Nice to meet you…” Adrian trails off waiting for Harry to introduce himself.

“Harry. I’m Harry,” he says and the man stiffens, his grip firming up as his eyes widen and he glances over to Louis. “And this is Louis,” Harry adds, motioning with a nod as Louis slides his hand around Harry’s waist, resting it on his hip possessively. Harry would move away or grumble about the inference but his feet are glued to the ground.

Adrian drops Harry’s hand and reaches out shaking Louis’ hand. “Nice to meet you, Adrian,” Louis says brightly, presumably unaware of the situation they’ve found themselves in. Harry hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with details of his dating life while in Australia, not that it’s a secret, it’s just not where he and Louis are in the rekindling of their friendship.

Tim steps forward then, eyes studying Louis as he shakes his hand, smirk firmly planted on his face when he connects the dots. “Louis, eh?”

Of course, Tim knows who Louis is. It would’ve been hard to be in a year-long relationship with someone without the subject of why Harry had left the UK coming up. He’d just never in a million years envisioned these two worlds colliding. Fuck. Fuck.

“That’s me!” Louis says brightly. “I hear great things about the kebabs here. Tell me, has Haz been filling my head with untruths?”

The friendly banter catches Tim off guard and he steps back, dropping Louis’ hand. Louis is a master at this and Harry is so grateful for him diffusing the situation. He was always good at getting people on side or just completely flummoxing them.

“Oh, uhm. Yeah, they’re uhm great,” Tim says, his bravado waning. “Best in the city I’d reckon.”

“Fantastic! Can’t wait. Been craving a decent falafel kebab.”

“Falafel roll, you mean,” Tim corrects with a smug expression on his face and Harry internally rolls his eyes. He’d always been a stickler for this kind of thing and it had worn on Harry’s temperament. 

Louis snorts out a laugh. “Not sure it matters what it’s called, mate. You say poh-tay-toe I say poh-tah-toe. It’s all ending up in the same place.”

Tim frowns at him, just short of a glare, and Harry can’t help the curl of his lips at Louis slapping him down so easily. But it’s really Tim who has the upper hand here, even if he doesn’t know it, and Harry waits for the other shoe to drop, for Tim to expose him.

“Harry!” George shouts from inside the shop, holding a plastic bag above the glass display case. 

“Ahhhh, sounds like we’re up, love,” Louis says, earning a deepening frown from Tim at the term of endearment. Louis walks past and slaps Tim on the shoulder. “Nice to meet you both. Enjoy your falafel _rolls_.”

Harry barks out a laugh and smiles. “Yeah, nice to meet you Adrian. Bye, Tim,” he says haughtily as he walks away, waving over his shoulder and leaving his ex-boyfriend with a gaping mouth and Adrian with his arms crossed over his chest staring at Tim with a pretty unimpressed look on his face.

They head down the street and once they’re out of earshot a giggle bubbles up in Harry’s throat, bursting out of him without his consent. “Oh, my god. You’re pure evil,” he says and hip checks Louis.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Louis replies, all faux innocent as he swings their bag of food back and forth. “I take it he’s an ex?”

“Yeah. Sorry. We went out for a while. Ended things about a year ago. We used to come here after a night out before we headed back to mine but I never thought we’d run into him.”

“Hmmmm… I gotta say, the resemblance was pretty hard to miss,” Louis says, a wry tone underlying his words.

Harry stumbles to a halt, his life flashing before his eyes. Fuck. Louis _knows_. He knows how pathetic Harry is. How he went out and found himself a poor imitation of the real thing when the real thing didn’t love him back. He has to try and regain some small shred of pride. Time to explain or even apologize, even as much as it pains him, that’s clearly what he has to do. “Lou, I’m-“

Louis stops and turns to him. “I mean... the dimples weren’t as deep and his eyes were brown, not green, I think, but wow.”

Confusion clouds Harry’s mind as he tries to decipher what Louis means. What the fuck is he talking- ohhhhhh... Adrian. He’s talking about Tim’s boyfriend who, now that he comes to think of it, did bear a striking resemblance to Harry himself. Huh. Interesting.

“Right. Yeah. I guess he did,” Harry agrees, recovering slightly and quickening his steps to catch up to Louis. 

“Not a patch on the real-deal,” Louis says and bumps their shoulders together as they cross another street, the shops morphing into residential dwellings the further they go. “So where are we off to?”

“Oh! Sorry. I was on autopilot. Uhm, thought we’d go and sit down at the wharf. That okay?”

“Sure. Sounds good. I haven’t been down there yet.”

It suddenly dawns on Harry he has no idea where Louis is living. He’s been avoiding discussing anything too personal but the way the night is going he feels—or at least hopes—that they’re becoming friends again. “Whereabouts are you staying?”

“Got a houseshare in Rozelle, not far from the lot actually. It’s nothing grand but the rent is pretty decent and I’ve got the main bedroom with an en-suite and a balcony with views to the Anzac Bridge.”

“Mmmm… sounds nice,” Harry hums in agreement as they make their way down the final steep hill to the water's edge, lights from the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the city dancing on the waves.

“Yeah. Not too shabby. Kelly put me onto it actually. One of her mates was moving back to Melbourne so the timing worked well. I bought their furniture so all I had to do was sort out the bedding.”

“You always did love good bedding,” Harry offers, his stupid brain letting yet another memory flood back into his consciousness; Louis laid out, tangled in high thread-count white sheets, hair falling over his forehead as he snuffled quietly in his sleep, sun shining in through the window and lighting up his caramel skin.

Louis keeps a steady pace beside him, Harry’s words settling heavily in the air as their footsteps echo against the last of the buildings before they reach the park that surrounds the wharf. He wants to take the words back but it’s too late. He just hopes Louis doesn’t call him out on it.

“Wow,” Louis says and lets out a long whistle. “That's some view, Haz.”

Harry looks out over the city lights and vast expanse of Harbour. He nods, realizing it’s been a while since he’s been here. “Yeah, love it down here. S’quiet. Beautiful.”

Harry had spent many a night sitting at the wharf when he’d first arrived, legs dangling over the deep waters of the Harbour and conjuring up images of mythical sea creatures that might surge up from below and drag him down into the blackness. Lost and miserable, he’d sat and tried to make sense of his life, overwhelmed by the enormity of what he’d done. 

Their shoes crunch on the concrete walkway as they make their way under the curved awning and out to the end of the jetty, water lapping at the sandstone walls as a wash from a long-since passed boat rocks against the bricks. The smell of salt and sea in the warm night air envelopes Harry like a comforting blanket as the rhythmic chimes of a bell perched atop a nearby buoy drift over the small waves. It’d almost be eerie if it wasn’t for the vibrant lights from the Bridge and Barangaroo Point on the other side of the Harbour.

Harry stops at the end and sits down, cold seeping through his jeans, legs bent at the knees and hanging over the edge as he settles himself. Louis takes a seat beside him, mirroring his position.

They unwrap their food and eat in peaceful silence but it doesn’t stop Harry’s mind from racing. Their encounter with Tim and Adrian has left an uneasy feeling in the pit of Harry’s stomach, still not convinced Louis didn’t notice Tim’s resemblance to himself. 

Louis wipes his mouth and hands with his napkin and puts his rubbish in the plastic bag, passing it to Harry for him to do the same. The breeze is blowing gently but it’s still strong enough to lift the bag and dump it into the ocean so Harry gets to his feet and strides over to the bin. As he turns back, he’s met with the sight of Louis sitting sideways, leaning against the piling, legs outstretched and ankles crossed, his profile shadowed, cheekbones prominent and mouth curled in a small smile.

 _Fuck_. He’s so gorgeous.

He repeats the mantra in his head that’s become all too familiar over the last month; don’t let him in, don't fall again, protect your heart.

Harry sighs and moves to sit facing Louis, back pressed up against the opposite piling, one leg bent at the knee and tucked underneath the other which hangs over the edge.

Louis’ eyes trail over his torso appraisingly and back to Harry’s eyes, the accompanying grin doing nothing to help with the racing of Harry’s heartbeat.

“So. Are we gonna talk about it?”

Harry’s eyes widen, his body going rigid. “Talk about what?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “About Tim,” he says flatly.

“Not sure my ex-boyfriend is any of your concern, to be honest,” Harry says, going for defiant but suspecting he falls short of the mark.

“Yeah? You think?”

Harry nods once, steepling his hands in his lap to hide the tremor that he knows is building. He really doesn’t want to talk about him, what he meant to him, or more correctly, what he didn’t mean to him. He doesn’t want to discuss the fact that the poor bloke never stood a chance because he was still in love with Louis. Nor does he want to address the proverbial elephant in the room that is the image of the two of them meeting and realising they bore a striking resemblance to each other. No. He definitely doesn’t want to talk about it.

“I just don’t want to talk about him,” Harry says dismissively praying Louis just drops it.

“He looked pretty, uhm… familiar.”

“Well, I dated him for a year so yeah, he did look unsurprisingly familiar.”

“Not what I meant and you know it,” Louis says, waiting a beat for Harry to respond in some way but Harry truly doesn’t know what to say. Louis crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his chin up. “Fine,” Louis sighs. “Are you really going to sit there and pretend that Tim and I don’t look like we were basically separated at birth?”

Louis’ forwardness catches Harry off guard and he cringes. “I- I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

The laugh that bursts out of Louis’ mouth carries over the Harbour like a foghorn, the rippling waves taking the sound out for the fishes and seagulls to share the mortification at Harry’s expense. “Didn’t think I’d noticed? Are you fucking serious right now? Haz, it was like looking in a goddamn mirror!”

“Really?” Harry goes for aloof, trying one last time to save himself. “I don’t see it,” he says with a shrug.

Louis eyes him and snorts out a laugh. “You’re a shit liar, Harry Styles, always have been.”

“I mean… maybe he looked a bit like you, in the right light. What does it matter anyway?”

“It matters quite a lot, actually.”

Harry fixes him with a stern glare. “It really doesn’t.”

“Whatever,” Louis huffs out. “You’re impossible. And rocking a serious case of denial.”

Louis looks out over the Harbour, his stubbornness and defiance blatantly obvious in the shadowed line of his hard-set jaw.

Harry wonders where this conversation is going to go now. The air feels charged, frustration and anger building in them both as the silence crackles between them. There’s so much Harry wants to say, to ask, to get some kind of understanding for what he did wrong, what was so repulsive about him that made it impossible for Louis to love. What was so amazing about Alex? Why him? What did he have that Harry didn’t? And if they were so perfect together—perfect enough that Louis left his job and moved to Ireland for him—what had happened to end their relationship? He wants answers to all the burning questions that have been plaguing him night and day since Louis crashed back into his life. The bravado he feels from the alcohol running in his veins is a good enough reason to crack open the Pandora’s Box, so he dives in.

“What happened with Alex?”

Louis snaps his head around so fast Harry is momentarily concerned that he’s done himself an injury, but the accompanying glare confirms he’s fine, physically at least.

“Nothing. I mean, we broke up, obviously.”

“Yeah, but why? What happened? Last I saw you two you were pretty loved-up. And you moved to another country with him, yeah?”

“Didn’t think you knew,” Louis says dismissively.

“Don’t be obtuse. Of course I knew. I got the email blast just like everyone else.”

“Yeah, well you didn’t…” Louis pauses, presumably thinking better of getting into how he and Harry had lost touch, or more correctly, how Harry had shut him out. “Never mind. It just didn’t work out.”

“What were you even doing in Ireland?”

Louis looks down at his hands, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Supporting him. I hadn’t found a… I just hung around at home.”

“Wait. So you didn’t have a job?” Harry asks, unable to hide the incredulous tone in his voice as it raises up an octave.

“No. I was a stay-at-home house husband… boyfriend… whatever,” Louis finishes dismissively and glances up at Harry warily.

Harry tries to hold it in but really, he can’t be blamed for his reaction. It’s fucking absurd. Louis has always loved his work so the thought of him pottering around at home is simply too ridiculous. He throws his head back and lets out a howl of a laugh, clutching at his belly. “You… you were gonna be a stay-at-”

“Alright, alright. Are you quite finished?”

Harry lets his laughter subside and then looks back at Louis. He’s got this hilariously indignant expression on his face, arms crossed over his chest, lips pursed and the whole scene is too much to take. A honk of laughter bursts out of him and he slaps his hands over his mouth but it’s no use, he can’t control it.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up Curly. Glad my pain and misery is so fucking amusing.”

“Did you seriously think you’d be happy with that? Staying at home? No job?”

“I… I don’t know what I thought. I think I got too caught up in the adventure of it all. New country and everything. But then he was always out, or working late, and I was bored out of mind.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Harry scoffs.

“Yeah, well, I thought it was going to be different, that he was going to be different, but it turns out he’s just your average twat who can’t keep his dick in his pants.”

Harry reels at that. “What?”

“Mhmmm… some bloke he met at a pub. How cliche. Right?”

Harry’s heart sinks for his friend. No one should ever experience that and certainly not someone as amazing as Louis. The thought of someone being fortunate enough to have Louis in their life only to throw it all away makes his blood boil and his heart break. No matter what they’ve been thorough, he only ever wants what’s best for him. “Oh, Lou. I’m really sorry. You didn’t deserve-“

“It’s _fine_. I’m fine. All water under the bridge,” Louis says with a wave of his hands. “Anyway, I’m here now. New start and all that.”

Harry can’t help the next words that fall from his mouth. “Yeah, but it’s not new, is it? Because I’m here.”

Louis grins. “Well, a little bit of familiarity can be a good thing, don’t you think?”

“Maybe for you…” Harry says under his breath.

“What?”

Harry sighs. “It’s just… _I’m_ here.” 

“Awwww baby, did I rain on your parade?”

And there it is again. The _baby_ reference is said in jest, just like always, but for some reason, it’s the final straw for Harry. Maybe it’s the booze, although that’s rapidly wearing off, maybe it’s being here at his wharf where he spent months, years even, trying to get over Louis, and now the man himself is here, burrowing his way back into Harry’s life without a single regard for his battered heart. Whatever it is, Harry breaks.

“Don’t _call_ me that!” Harry shouts, voice echoing off the water as it laps against the retaining wall.

Louis reels back in shock. “What?”

“Don’t call me baby. It’s not- I can’t- it isn’t right. I’m not your baby. I’m not your _anything_.”

“Fine. _Jeez_ ,” Louis says with a roll of his eyes. “Didn’t realize it was such a big deal.”

“Well, it is. I know you like nicknames for people and fond terms and whatever, it’s your way, I get it. But it’s just-“

“I said fine, _Haaarry_.” The name said with an exaggerated drawl for emphasis.

Harry scrubs his hands down his face. He’s exhausted, so fucking exhausted. They’re talking in circles and he can’t take it anymore. Nothing makes sense. He wants to go home and curl into a ball and try and block this all out.

They regard each other, both trying to read the other’s mind. The ebb and flow of the Harbour’s swell beneath the wharf feels like it’s rising, ready to consume him, suck him under and drag him to the depths of the seabed. 

“Why are you here, Louis?” He can hear the slightly pleading tone in his voice and he doesn’t like it, but he wants to know, he has to know.

“I wanted a change, I’ve told you that,” Louis says, crossing his arms over his chest again.

“But you could’ve gone anywhere. Why here?”

“I’ve always wanted to come to Australia, you know that.” Louis’ words are terse, clearly not appreciating Harry’s line of questioning. In fairness, Louis had always said that he’d wanted to visit Australia, that much Harry will admit is true, but the answer still isn’t satisfying. Something is missing.

“But why now?”

Louis sighs and hesitates, like he isn’t sure how much to reveal about his intentions. “Well, Alex and I were done and I wasn’t working and this was a good opportunity, career-wise. Plus, I knew you were here so I thought, hoped, we could be friends again, like we were before. You know?”

 _Like we were before…_ The words slap Harry in the face like a rude awakening. So Louis thought he could just slide right back into Harry’s life and pick up where they left off. Back to their best-mates-with-benefits arrangement as though not a day had passed. Harry’s blood boils, rage and hurt and disappointment and pain flooding his senses. He gets to his feet, needing to put some distance between them. He paces for a bit, hand raking through his hair before he rounds on Louis and stares down at him. 

“So you just expected us to fall back into bed together? Is that what you thought?” Harry can feel the bile building in his throat, rising with the volume of his voice. “You’ve got some fucking nerve.”

Louis sucks in a sharp breath, glaring up at Harry, brows furrowed. “You arrogant son of a bitch,” he spits.

“What?” Harry asks with an indignant chuckle.

Louis pushes himself up and walks toward Harry, his posture indicating he’s readying himself for a fight. “You seriously think I up and relocated my arse ten thousand miles, left my friends and family behind, just so I could get _laid_?!”

“No. Yes. _Fuck_ ,” Harry stammers. “I don’t know!” He shouts, flinging his arms out to the side.

Louis stops in front of him, only a few feet between them now. “You’ve said some shit in your time, mate, but that has to take the fucking cake. You seriously think… you _genuinely_ believe that your dick is so goddamn magical that I would traipse across the globe just to get it in me one more time? You’ve lost the fucking plot!”

“Then why are you here?”

“Oh. My god. I’m not answering that again,” Louis says and turns around, stalking away toward the edge of the wharf.

“You haven’t answered at all!” Harry yells at his back. “You just keep giving me the same dumbass response which I don’t believe any more than I believe Santa Claus drives a sleigh pulled by flying reindeers. Answer the bloody question. What are you doing here?”

Louis spins on his heel. “What the fuck are you talking about? You know what I’m doing here.”

“No. What are you doing _here_? Why did you come to Australia?”

“Seriously? I’ve explained this to you multiple times. Were you just not listening or are you being purposefully obtuse right now?”

Harry throws his head back, looking up to the starry night sky. “I swear to fucking _god_ , you have sixty-seconds to start explaining yourself before I’m out of here,” Harry says, anger colouring his tone, as he lowers his gaze and shoves his hands in his pockets.

The silence stretches like a rubber band about to snap. Louis stares him down, but Harry isn’t going to back away, not this time, never again. He wants, no, _deserves_ an answer. He’s been through too much, and his heart can’t take it again. He’d put thousands of miles between them for this exact reason, left behind his family and friends and everything he knew to escape the pull of the man before him, and he isn’t going to let himself be sucked back in. 

Harry squares his shoulders and tilts his chin up, defiance oozing out of every pore as he glares at Louis. It’s confronting enough that Louis takes a steadying step back, his confident facade dimming for the briefest of moments before he regains his composure, mirroring Harry’s aggressive stance.

“I’ve told you. I wanted a change,” Louis snaps back. “This was a great career opportunity. What’s so hard to grasp? I mean, you did it, didn’t you? Fucked off to the other side of the world for your career and never looked back for even a second. Why is it okay for you and not me?”

Harry sighs, shoulders slumping and shaking his head as he leans back against the railing. Louis is right, of course, and that grates on his nerves. He’s just… he’s done, so done. He doesn’t need to stand here and listen to this anymore. 

“Okay, Louis. You win. You came here for your career, just like I did,” Harry says flatly. “If that’s the story we’re both sticking with then fine.”

“Alright then, Mr High And Mighty,” Louis says and raises his chin up. “You don’t believe my reasons? Fine. How about you share why _you_ ended up here?”

Louis’ face is pure rage and for some ridiculous reason, Harry is suddenly overwhelmed with the desperate need to wrap Louis up in his arms, to soothe him, to skip past this fight and straight to a happily ever after he’s sure isn’t actually possible.

He’s spent so many years hiding his feelings, tamping them down and shoving them under the proverbial rug, barricading off that part of his heart that simply won’t heal no matter how hard he tries. The burden is so great that it smothers him as he gasps for air under the weight of all the words that have gone unsaid.

The moment crystallizes, a clarity revealing itself as the world stops spinning, narrowing to only the two of them, suspended in time on the precipice of the abyss.

He can’t fight it anymore. He needs to free his heart from the chains and get past whatever this never was. 

He pushes off the railing and walks over to Louis, coming to stand beside him and looks out toward the Bridge. 

“You know, I used to come here all the time, when I first arrived,” Harry says, voice soft and reverent. “I’d look out over the water and watch the lights dance on the waves, it was mesmerizing.”

He can feel the confusion radiating off Louis but he doesn’t turn to address him directly; this is going to be easier if he doesn’t meet his gaze.

“I tried to put you out of my mind, fuck, I tried so hard. But it didn’t matter what I did, you were everywhere. In my head, my heart.”

He hears Louis gasp beside him, but he continues undeterred. It’s like now that he’s started, he just wants to get it all out, lay himself bare and get some closure, whatever form that might take and whatever consequences he may face.

Harry barrels on. “I’d see you in the faces of strangers on the street. Hear your laugh. The blue of your eyes looking down on me from the skies above. The pink of your lips in the soft petals of a tulip. I couldn’t escape you, no matter how hard I tried. Every thought. Every breath. Every heartbeat. You were always there, taunting me-“

“Harry, I-“

“No. Don’t say anything. Please, Lou. Let me finish. I need to get this out. It was always different for you, I get that. You didn’t feel the same way and I thought I was fine with it, really I did. I thought having a piece of you was better than nothing at all even though it ate me up inside. But then Alex came along and I lost you completely. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t bear to see someone else have you the way I’d always dreamed of. I had to escape. I had to protect myself. So I ran away, as far as I could, to the other side of the fucking planet and I tried to get over you, to heal my heart, but then you turned up here and everything came crashing down. You were the same, of course,” Harry says with a soft chuckle. “Funny and flirty just like you always were and it’s… it’s been _killing_ me, Lou. I can’t breathe when you’re around because I’m so afraid of letting you see how I really feel. I can’t… I can’t do it again. I can’t hide myself away. It’s too hard. Always keeping myself in check, hoping against hope that you don’t see through the thinly veiled facade to my desperate desire to be with you, to have you as mine, not just as a friend or a convenient lover, but as mine, totally and wholly mine.”

Harry turns and finally meets Louis’ gaze. It somehow feels like the first time he’s truly letting himself be seen and it sucks the air from his lungs. But the expression on Louis’ face gives nothing away. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open, a look of mortal fear etched on his beautiful features. 

“I love you, Lou. I always have and I know in my heart that’s not likely to change anytime soon, and even though I also know you don’t feel the same, I had to say it, to try and cleanse my soul or some shit. I just hope we can move past this and try and be friendly for both our sakes,” Harry says, the words hanging in the air and sounding foreign being uttered out loud for the first time. He looks up to the stars once more, letting out a long sigh of relief, feeling freer than he has in years.

Harry lowers his head and finds Louis still staring, tears glistening in his eyes probably out of pity and that’s okay, it’s no less than he expected. “So, there it is. My truth. The reason I left. Do with it what you will but try to be gentle because I don’t know if my heart can take too much more right now,” Harry finishes with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Anyway. As much fun as this has been, I’m tired, so I’m going to go home. Thanks for listening to me ramble, I really appreciate it. I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

And with that, he walks away, a strange sense of calm falling over him as he leaves behind all the pain and anguish of his unrequited love.

“I- I missed you.” It’s barely above a whisper but Harry hears it nonetheless. He stops. Feet feeling like they’ve become one with the concrete and the world spinning around him like a demonically possessed tilt-a-whirl. Up is down, left is right, everything turned inside out and careening out of control. His ears must be playing tricks on him. 

“Harry?” It’s soft and timid and laced with so much insecurity it makes Harry’s heart clench.

Harry doesn’t turn around, too afraid that he misheard him and more than a bit terrified that he didn’t. “What did you say?”

“I missed you. I made a mistake. _Fuck_. I didn’t see it. What was right in front of me. I thought you wanted to keep things the way they were, that’s what you always said, that we had a good thing going and didn’t need to upset it. But… but that wasn’t enough for me. It was never going to be enough. I was too scared to tell you how I felt so instead, I decided to try and get over you. And then Alex came along and he was nice enough and I thought-“

“What? What did you think?” Harry hangs his head, looking down at his boots, hands on his hips to try and steady himself as the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention.

“I thought why not. I thought I deserved some happiness, real happiness in a real relationship. But…”

“But what?” Harry feels his chest expanding and contracting, labouring to suck in enough air to breathe, just fucking breathe.

“But it wasn’t right. _He_ wasn’t right. There was always something missing and he knew it too. I could never fully open my heart to him because it wasn’t completely mine to give. A piece of it… a _big_ piece of it was ten thousand miles away, here, with you. With your silly dimples and soft smile and in your eyes and your laugh. I gave it away so long ago and I didn’t know how to get it back.”

Harry feels a physical jolt behind his rib cage, like the lock breaking open on his heart and revealing the cavernous hole that has been sealed off in the cavity of his chest, hidden away so it couldn’t hurt him anymore. But now it’s like it’s calling out, seeking to be whole again, to find its missing piece. He sucks in a sharp breath, lungs stuttering as tears fall freely down his face.

“Harry, _baby_ , please turn around,” Louis says, nothing more than a whisper. And suddenly, for the first time, that word tugs at Harry’s heartstrings differently. Now, instead of being said in jest, it’s said with so much affection that it reaching right in and touches Harry’s soul. He turns slowly and Louis is right there, only an arms-length away, eyes pleading and his own tears staining his gorgeous cheeks. 

Louis looks hopeful but scared, raw and open, all fight seeming to have left his body. He looks small like this, timid, stripped of his bravado and confident stance, emotions laid bare, but no less beautiful for it.

“What are you saying, Lou? Please, you need to spell it out for me.”

Louis smiles softly and steps closer, taking Harry’s hands in his. Harry can feel Louis trembling, or maybe it’s him, it’s impossible to say. Louis looks up into his eyes as he thumbs over the backs of Harry’s knuckles. “I’m saying, you great idiot, that I love you too. I think I’ve always loved you and I’ve chased you to the other side of the planet because I realised that I can’t go on living my life without you in it. I’ve been a lonely fool for too many years and I don’t want that anymore. I want to be with you, Haz, if you’ll have me?”

They’re the words Harry’s been waiting to hear for so long, and ones he would’ve sworn a few minutes ago were an impossibility, that he briefly worries that he’s passed out drunk on his couch at home, dreaming up the perfect scenario in his subconscious. 

Harry searches Louis’ face for any hint of trepidation but all he finds is the man he loves beaming a blinding smile right back at him. “You love me too?”

“Mhmmm… yeah, I do.”

Harry pulls on Louis’ hands and he staggers forward with a soft giggle as Harry gathers him up in his arms and pulls him tight against his chest, breathing in the sweet smell of everything that is Louis. 

“Fuck,” is all Harry can manage to say.

“God, yes,” Louis says and reaches down to squeeze Harry’s arse.

“Heeeeey,” Harry drawls. “I thought you came all this way because you loved me, not just so you get laid.”

Louis leans back but doesn’t let go of Harry’s arse, looking up at him mischievously. “Can’t it be both?”

The waggle of Louis’ eyebrows really shouldn’t be so endearing but Harry can’t be bothered to care. Finally, fucking _finally_ he and Louis are on the same page and it feels so damn good he’s is going to burst out of his skin. He wants to haul Louis back to his terrace and devour him but first, he needs to do something he’s been dreaming of for five arduous years.

His eyes dart down to Louis' lips and he catches his man, yes, _his_ man, licking along the seam and that’s more than enough to green-light his next move.

Kissing Louis was always one of his favourite things, but he only ever got the chance when he was balls-deep and Louis on the edge of coming. Now though. Now he can kiss him any time he wants, and he wants very, very much.

He cups Louis’ face, sliding his fingers into his soft hair and thumbing over his cheekbones, Louis’ glassy eyes roaming his face.

Louis huffs out a breath. “I swear to god if you don’t kiss me in the next-“

Harry smiles and closes the distance, slotting their lips together in a perfect, chaste kiss. It’s the most familiar thing in the world but also tinged with so much more this time; love and desire and a yearning for everything the future holds.

Louis opens up as their heads instinctively tilt, wanton moans passing between them. Harry glides his hands down, cupping the swell of Louis arse in one hand as he draws Louis in closer with his other hand on the small of his back. Louis arches into Harry’s hold, rising up onto his toes as he caresses Harry’s cheek.

It all feels so strangely nostalgic and a little bit whimsical; the water lapping beneath the wharf, the rhythmical chiming of the buoy, the heady aroma of salt in the air all culminating in a perfect moment that Harry never wants to end. But the tugging in his gut as arousal sparks in his veins forces him to pull away. He needs to get Louis home, naked and in his bed as soon as humanly possible.

“Fuck,” Louis says on an exhale as he drops back into his heels and looks up into Harry’s eyes. “That was-“

“Yeah,” Harry says breathlessly. It’s about all he can muster with his brain turning to mush at the sight and smell and feel of Louis in his arms. He has only one thought in his mind right now and apparently Louis shares his urgency.

“How far away do you-“

Before Louis can finish Harry grabs his hand and starts dragging him up the hill, Louis giggling behind him. “Three minutes, two if we hurry.”

Louis breaks into a jog and surges past him, yanking on Harry’s hand. Harry honks out a laugh and matches his pace, ducking into the side street as they both break into a run. It’s absurd and brilliant and he suddenly feels like he could fly, so swept up in the moment.

Finally, his little terrace comes into view, an old workers cottage, one of six in the row. It was built to lodge the men who loaded and unloaded cargo at the long-since closed shipyards that flanked the Harbour a hundred years ago, its sandstone bricks and pretty window ledge planter-boxes beckoning to them. 

Harry shoves his free hand in his jeans pocket, ready to extract his keys as they come to a breathless stop.

“Ooooohhh, nice place, Haz,” Louis says with a long, low whistle, leaning up against Harry’s back and hooking his chin over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Harry says and turns to peck a kiss to Louis’ cheek. “It’s small, but perfectly formed, as they say.”

Harry opens the door, the compact interior revealing itself in the moonlight. It’s been renovated with a sleek modern feel, whilst still retaining the cozy charm of the bygone era. Harry, ever the gracious host, had been intent on giving Louis the five-cent tour but as he flicks the lamp on in the front room he’s spun around and set upon by a very eager Louis.

“Oof,” Harry says as Louis pushes him back against the exposed sandstorm wall and dislodges some of the aging mortar from between the large bricks, the sound of it disintegrating as it hits the floor making Harry chuckle. “You’re gonna break my damn house, you idiot.”

“Less talk, more naked.” It’s all the warning Harry gets before his shirt is being ripped from his body, buttons scattering on the wooden floors and joining the path of destruction Louis seems intent on leaving in their wake.

Harry catches on fast, lifting Louis’ t-shirt up and over his head as he toes out of his boots and kicks them away, Louis dispensing with his Vans in a similar fashion. He pulls Louis through the front room and up the couple of stairs into the kitchen, managing to undo Louis’ jeans as they stumble backwards and Louis makes quick work of Harry’s belt, the buckle clattering loudly to the tiled floor. The space is tight and lit only by the full moon shining in through the skylights dotted throughout. In the dim lighting, they bounce off walls and furniture as they make it into the bedroom at the rear of the house.

Harry picks Louis up under the arms and throws him onto his bed, thankful that he’d bothered to tidy up in here this morning before he left for work, not that he thinks Louis would give a shit right now.

“Neanderthal,” Louis gasps, all mock-offended.

“Fuck off, you love it.”

“I love _you_ ,” Louis says as he props himself up on his elbows, fringe falling in front of his eyes. “Can’t believe I get to say that now.”

Harry stills, thumbs tucked into the open waistband of his jeans and takes in the sight before him. Louis is here, in his house, on his bed, and he’s saying he loves him. He fucking _loves_ him. Harry feels light-headed with the enormity of what is transpiring. After so many painful years trying to put his heart back together again the man of his dreams is laid out, ready and waiting for him to do with as he wishes. And that list is long, so long Harry barely even knows where to start. Thankfully, he doesn’t need to concern himself with that right now as a pillow flies across the room and hits him in the head.

“Heeeeey,” Harry drawls out.

“ _God_. You’re so slow. Hurry up and get in me already!”

“Fuck, I forgot how bloody bossy you were,” Harry says with a shake of his head but it does the trick. It takes him less than five seconds to strip out of the rest of his clothes and yank Louis’ jeans and briefs down and over his ankles; Louis’ resulting squeal is just an added bonus.

Harry knees up onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as Louis slides down underneath him.

Harry leans over and switches on the lamp, desperate not to miss a second of this due to poor lighting. He rummages around in his bedside table for his lube and a condom, sending a silent prayer to the heavens that he’s still got supplies; his dry spell having an upside he hadn’t foreseen. He chucks them on the bed and gazes down at Louis.

“Hi,” Louis says, all faux-innocent but Harry can see the mischief in his eyes.

“Hi, yourself. You good?”

“Mhmmm… will be better in a few minutes though I’m hoping.” Louis’ hands are roaming everywhere he can reach like he’s trying to remap every inch of Harry’s skin; Harry can definitely relate.

Harry slots his knees between Louis’ legs and he spreads them easily, looking down at him with awe and wonder. Harry lowers himself, propping himself up on his elbows as their bodies align, soft skin and hard cocks fitting perfectly.

The thing about sleeping with someone again after an extended break is that it’s both familiar and new at the same time. Sex, like any activity, is an ongoing development process; different techniques, changes in the bodies and fitness levels of those involved, and then… then there’s the emotional aspect.

They were always good at the physical side of things. Harry’s strength and stamina coupled with Louis’ flexibility and an arse that could launch a thousand ships, always meant their rolls in the proverbial hay were immensely satisfying and, well, downright hot.

But the unrequited love—which Harry now knows was on both sides—was always holding them back and keeping them in check; that last piece of the puzzle to enable them to really let go.

But that is no longer going to be a problem and hopefully, it never will be again.

Louis wraps his hands around Harry’s neck and pulls him down, mouths hungrily devouring each other without hesitation. Louis goes pliant under him as Harry works him open on his fingers, sucking on his cock to distract from any discomfort. Harry knows neither of them will last long this time, too riled up in anticipation, but he honestly couldn’t care less. He just wants to be close to him, to feel what it’s like to fuck into his man without the fear of what happens tomorrow. Knowing that they’re finally together, really, properly together.

Louis whines and writhes on the bed, pawing at Harry’s shoulders as he circles the head of his cock, tonguing into the slit and lapping up the beads of precome as quickly as they form. Harry rubs over Louis' prostate as he scissors his fingers, readying Louis as best he can even though he can sense Louis is getting impatient.

“H-Harry,” Louis pants out. “M’ready. Fuck. Get in me.”

It’ll still be a stretch, but he knows Louis enjoys that, so after a few more twists and a long, hard suck on his cock, he relents. Sitting up and rolling the condom on.

“Do you want to stay on your back?”

“Yeah, wanna see you,” Louis says, making grabby hands at Harry and lifting his knees to his chest, presenting himself fully.

As Harry lubes up, he allows himself a brief pause to relish the moment, finally, after all these years, getting to have Louis the way he’s always wanted him, both physically and emotionally is a lot to take.

He leans down, guiding his cock to Louis’ waiting hole as he plants his other hand beside Louis’ head, sealing their lips together in a passionate kiss. Louis threads his fingers into Harry’s hair, tugging gently as he scratches his scalp with his fingernails.

Harry moans into Louis’ mouth as he breaches his rim, the strong muscle sucking him in eagerly. It’s the best feeling in the entire world and he can barely breathe, Louis’ walls enveloping him, pulsing, blood rushing into Harry’s ears as they pant into each other’s mouths.

He goes slowly, inching in with as much restraint as he can muster but Louis, always wanting to set the pace, slaps his hands into Harry’s arse and forces him in the rest of the way in one swift motion.

Harry gasps, bottoming out, bodies flush, chests heaving. “Oh god, Lou. _Fuck_.”

Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist, crossing his ankles at Harry’s lower back and tilting his pelvis up. He pushes at Harry’s chest and Harry straightens his arms, angling his hips and driving in deeper.

“ _Yes_ , r-right there,” Louis cries out, eyes rolling back in his head. Harry swivels his hips, jabbing at Louis’ spot over and over again. They’ve always been masters at reading each other’s bodies; every tense of muscle, every sound that escaped their lips, every want and need and desire painted on their faces like a neon sign leading them to ecstasy. 

But now Harry gets to say the words he’d always had to keep in check. “You’re so beautiful, Lou. So gorgeous. Feel so good around my cock. Taking it so well, angel. Love being inside you. Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Louis whines high in his throat, head thrashing on the pillow as Harry builds his speed, thrusting in and out with precision and giving Louis everything he‘s got. Sweat prickles at Harry’s temples and on his upper lip, beads trickling down his back. He senses the familiar pull in his gut and it’s too soon, he wants to keep going forever, but he knows he won’t be able to hold back for much longer, too consumed by the man beneath him.

Louis grips onto his shoulders and cranes his neck, eyes wide and wild as he seeks out Harry’s lips, biting, sucking, heated breaths passing back and forth. 

“I love you. So fucking much, Haz,” Louis says into Harry’s mouth as his thighs tighten around Harry’s waist. He’s close, Harry can sense it, and he doubles his efforts, pounding into him with abandon.

Harry takes his full weight on one arm and reaches between them, stripping Louis’ cock in time with his onslaught. “That’s it, let go, Lou. I’ve got you. Love you. Wanna see you come apart on my cock.”

Louis wails and his whole body goes taut. Harry watches on in awe as Louis careens over the edge, back arching off the bed, hands gripping onto Harry’s shoulders, nails digging into his skin as his orgasm slams into him and warm spurts of come cover Harry’s hand.

Harry fucks him through it, chasing his own release as Louis clenches around him. Three more thrusts and Harry’s vision whites out. “Oh, fuck!” He shudders, every nerve ending in his body sparking like a fire is raging through him. “Oh my god, Lou,” Harry gasps, chest stuttering, muscles spasming.

He manages to hold himself up for a few more seconds but it’s too much and he collapses heavily onto Louis, face buried in his neck. He breathes him in, the sweet smell of sweat and sex and everything that is Louis overwhelming his senses. 

Louis lets his legs fall to the sides, rubbing circles on Harry’s back and whispering soft words of love and adoration into Harry’s ear as he peppers kisses on Harry’s cheek.

Harry finally comes back to himself enough to pull out and roll off, trying to catch his breath. Louis turns on his side and Harry lowers his gaze, watching as he slides down the bed.

Harry grins as Louis looks up at him from under his eyelashes. “And where do you think you’re going?”

Louis just smirks and peels the condom off, tying it off and chucking it on the floor. It lands with a wet slap and Harry chuckles but his laughter dies on his tongue as Louis leans down and licks a stripe up his sensitive cock.

Louis waggles his eyebrows. “Mmmmm… tasty.”

Harry throws his arm over his eyes and groans. “You’re ridiculous.”

Louis wraps his lips loosely around the head of Harry’s cock, swirling his tongue and lapping the tip. Harry’s hips jolt and his stomach barrels as Louis moans, sending vibrations down his shaft and into his balls. There’s no real intent behind it, and Harry would struggle to go again this soon, so he just relaxes back into the mattress and lets Louis amuse himself as he cleans him up. 

“So…”

“Mmmmm?” Louis replies with a muffled hum.

Harry removes his arm from across his eyes and gazes down at his man, mouth still full of Harry’s softening cock. It’s quite a sight. “Are we, like, boyfriends now?”

Louis pulls off and looks up at him indignantly. “I fucking hope so, you twat,” he says and lightly flicks Harry in the balls.

“ _Ooouch_ ,” Harry whines and grabs Louis’ hand, dragging him back up the bed effortlessly and bringing his hand to his mouth, kissing over his knuckles.

Louis props himself up on his elbow and stares down at him. “You seriously think I would’ve travelled all this way, wormed my way back into your life, pledged my undying love and devotion, only to keep it casual? You’re off your fucking rocker, mate.”

“Sorry. Just thought I should check.”

“Just thought I should check,” Louis parrots back, mocking him mercilessly as he leans down and bites his shoulder. “Honestly. If you think I’m ever letting you go you’re sorely mistaken. You’re mine until the end of time.”

Harry beams at him, butterflies taking flight in his stomach. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart,” Louis says, tracing his finger over his chest and drawing an x.

Harry gazes up at his boyfriend, heart full to overflowing. “I love you. I’m gonna love you forever, you know? I’m gonna love you so hard you’ll be sick of the sight of me.”

“Never,” Louis says and ducks his head, meeting Harry’s lips, soft and sure. They share languid kisses, comforting, slow, deep kisses that go on for eons like they’re trying to make up for all the years they’ve wasted.

When their yawns become too frequent to ignore, they shower and get ready for bed. Louis snuggles into Harry’s side, head resting against his chest, arm draped across Harry’s stomach, their legs intertwined under the covers. Harry is drifting off to sleep when a sinking feeling flickers to life low in his gut. He doesn’t want to spend another night away from Louis ever again, not now that he finally has him in his arms.

“Move in with me,” he whispers into the top of Louis’ head.

Louis cranes his neck and looks up at Harry with a smile that reaches all the way to his crinkled eyes. “When?”

“Tomorrow. We’ll go and grab your stuff after breakfast.”

“Okay,” Louis says without hesitation, like it’s the most natural course of action to take after their first real night together, and buries his head in Harry’s chest.

“Really?”

“Mhmmmm…” Louis murmurs into Harry’s skin. “Don’t want to be apart from you. Plus, your place is pretty schmick, love,” he says and yawns again. Harry chuckles, Louis’ head bouncing with the movement. “Oi, pillow. Quit it,” Louis grumbles, pinching Harry’s nipple playfully in retaliation.

“Night, Lou.”

“Night, baby.”

Harry smiles at the term of endearment, now meaning so much more than it ever has before. He holds Louis tighter, sighing happily and letting sleep pull him under, safe in the knowledge that the man he loves, loves him back and they’re about to embark on a future Harry had previously only dreamt of.

~~~~

_18 months later…_

Harry gazes out of the small window at the cottony peaks of the clouds below, a chilled playlist of acoustic guitar tracks filtering into his ears and blocking out the sound of the plane’s engines. 

Louis shifts beside him, head lolling onto Harry’s shoulder as his grip tightens on Harry’s hand in his sleep. The platinum engagement ring digs into Harry’s fingers but he doesn’t mind; a constant and welcome reminder of their love for one another.

Louis, the crafty little shit, had beaten Harry to the punch and proposed on their one-year anniversary. He’d prepared a picnic at the park down at the wharf, their wharf, where, twelve-months earlier they’d fought and then confessed their love, setting them on a path toward their futures.

Louis had set the scene perfectly; candles surrounding a picnic blanket, with wine and pizza from their favourite restaurant. Even with the elaborate setup Harry was still shocked when Louis had gotten down on one knee and popped the question; pledging his undying love in a beautiful, heartfelt speech before presenting Harry with the most gorgeous platinum band inlaid with blue sapphires to match his eyes. When Louis had handed over a ring box with a similar band for himself, this time with emeralds to match Harry’s eyes, he hadn't exactly had an opportunity to prepare his own speech, but the words came easily as they tend to do when they’re from a place of true love and devotion.

That was six months ago now, and not a day goes by that Harry isn’t overwhelmed with how much he loves his man. This beautiful, kind, funny, smart, generous man.

Australia had been an amazing experience for them both, but they yearned to return home and settle down properly. After sharing their happy news with their families and friends over tearful phone calls, they’d started to make plans to relocate back to the UK permanently, hoping they could secure roles in the UK operation to ease the transition. They’d had to wait it out, but received the news last month that a new reality show was starting filming in Manchester and they were being welcomed back with open arms. It was perfect and they, and their families, were thrilled.

Life with Louis by his side is more perfect than he could even have dreamed. After their first night together, they’d headed to Louis’ houseshare and gathered his things, piling them into Harry’s tiny hatchback before returning and making space for them in Harry’s little terrace. They haven’t spent a night apart since and Harry wouldn’t have it any other way. 

There have been adjustments, of course, as there are with any relationship; Harry’s a morning person and Louis is decidedly not, Harry enjoys running and going to the gym whereas Louis prefers to limit his exercise routine to the footie field. But their differences complement each other too; Harry goes for his morning run and brings them back coffee and Louis gets up a bit later but has breakfast ready for when Harry returns. As with most relationships, it’s these simple acts of domesticity and consideration that underpin and showcase the love they have for each other.

The plane starts its descent, dropping under the canopy of clouds heading for their final destination. It’s been a long trip, nearly forty hours with layovers, and Harry will be glad to be home, they both will.

The man in question stretches his legs and kisses Harry’s shoulder. “Hiya, love.”

Harry turns and kisses the top of his head. “Hey, sleepyhead. We’re nearly there.”

Louis looks over and out the window, Harry doing the same, the sea below replaced with countryside as the cabin crew start their checks. 

“Need a shower,” Louis comments. “Feel gross.”

“Mmmmm… same. Not long now.”

Louis yawns and covers his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ugh. Need to brush my teeth too.”

“Yeah, you stink,” Harry says with a smirk and earns a well-deserved swat in the chest.

As they gather their things and ready themselves for landing Harry’s mind drifts back to the day that changed everything. Louis has told him how nervous he was to reach out over LinkedIn, how terrified he was that Harry would just ignore him completely. Harry will be forever grateful that Louis was brave enough to ditch it all and follow his heart even though he couldn’t have known how it would turn out. The months of planning and agonizing on Louis’ part resulting in a single, glorious, wonderful alert on Harry’s phone and it will never cease to amaze Harry how those seven simple words can have such a life-altering impact: _Louis Tomlinson sent you a new message._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, a kudos or comment or both would be lovely xx
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [ jacaranda-bloom ](https://jacaranda-bloom.tumblr.com/) and if you’d like to reblog my [ Tumblr fic post ](https://jacaranda-bloom.tumblr.com/post/630877350550175744/seven-simple-words-by-jacaranda-bloom-written-for) that would be lovely!
> 
> PS If you'd like to be notified when I post other stories, you can subscribe [ here ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacaranda_bloom/).


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